Saut De Basque
by lightening816
Summary: Camille can't forgive herself for her rude behavior towards her former rival herself, Felicie. No matter their reconciliation, the weeks gone by, or the circumstances, it seems the best way to move forward is to take a chance and initiate a conversation. I might continue this.


Saut De Basque

Camille Le Haut had never been one to show compassion.

At least, that's how it used to be. Everywhere the blonde, blue eyed darling of dance went within the Palais Garnier of Paris, France, there seemed to be this growing weight on her strong, yet small shoulders. She first felt it as she walked with the crooked tooth enthusiast, Nora, to their next ballet class together. She felt it a little more as their instructor Louis Merante', taught them their most recent lesson: the correlation between emotions and the Jette'. Now, as she heard Nora ramble on about the fixations she had this week, it had grown so heavy, Camille's stomach began to turn.

"Camille-"  
"YES!"  
"Wha-Wha-Wha-!"

Nora flinched and hid her face behind her short bangs, however challenging that may have been. She smoothed out her chestnut brown bun rather awkwardly, and stood back up straight. "Gee whiz, Camille, what's wrong?" she asked in her usual awkward tone, albeit a little concerned. Camille, still valuing her appearance at least a little bit, also straightened her back, as well as her white tutu, just in case. "N-Nothing, Nora, of course!" "Are you sure?" Nora asked. "Ever since the start of the new year ended, you've been...not yourself." Camille's lips curled inward. "Wellll.. I _have_ been a little...shaken lately." "Is it because of your Mother?" her new friend asked. The blonde's shoulders twitched. Mother...

"Perhaps..." "How is she these days anyway?" "She's recovering well. The more I talk to her, the more we seem to agree that she took things too far; still a little mad about our identity issue though..." "Are you?" Nora asked. "...No." Nora shrugged and continued their long walk from their mirror clad classroom to one of the changing rooms. Behind a curtain, the brunette changed into a casual dress with closed toed shoes, though she left her hair in a bun. Camille sat on a bench. "I don't know, Camille. Maybe you should talk to Felicie. I mean, if you can talk to anyone, I guess it'd be her," Nora replied from the curtain, buttoning her buttons. Camille gasped quietly. "Hmm...I wouldn't want to bother her. She practically flew out of class to practice with Odette and Miss Sophia. Did you notice?" "Sure did," Nora laughed. Camille smiled weakly.

She walked Nora to the grand foyer of the opera house and laughed over a completely different subject Nora thought of; something about a huge frog hopping to her front doorstep, and feeling compelled to keep it. The young blonde would curl her fingers in slight disgust, but put on a convincing enough smile. Then it happened again; that weight on her shoulders that didn't go away when she wished Nora well and watched her leave.

The foyer was only a little busy. A person here, two people there, nothing new for the Post-Christmas season, but despite the cheery after glow of the Christmas spirit, Camille felt...lacking. Like something was out of place, and apparently quite heavy at that. She turned her head a little to the left, then she brought her head back forward, and lectured herself. "She won't want to talk right now...I doubt it anyway..." she mumbled to herself. Normally holding her head high in a newfound healthy confidence, she kept her eyes to her toes. Standing in First Position, to calm her nerves, even in her comfort zone of ballet dancing, she felt off. Incomplete...

She hated it.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this..." she grumbled to herself as she walked up the steps, and turned to the left to enter the largest theatre she'd ever seen (and likely ever will, she had once considered to herself). The auditorium in the Palais Grandier was a horseshoe shaped world in its own way. From the stainless, blood red carpet to the opulence of the gold and crystal chandelier hanging far above all three of them, Camille recalled instances as a little girl in which she would look at her Mother with wide, gleaming eyes and promise that one day, she would dance proudly alongside the Queen of the Ballet herself, Rosita Mauri, a woman as kind as she was talented. Her Mother would look at her with a proud smirk and confirm that she would, and more importantly, she would do it for her. Of course, that promise certainly didn't seem so comforting, now that Camille was looking back...

She pushed that moment of doubt to the back of her mind.

The auditorium of the Palais Garnier bragged three balconies, an immense space for an orchestra, plus its seating, and an incredibly wide stage. Where fake snowflakes, a blue background, and Christmas trees once sat, now had little more than sand bags connected to long ropes, no backdrop at all, and two young women; one was a dancing redhead with a smile on her face, and the other was a tall, raven-haired woman with a thin pointed face and nose, and cane to help support a bad foot. The woman, Odette, seemed quite calm and serene as she noticed the joy on the young redhead, who twirled gracefully on her toes, as her arms swayed gracefully in almost perfect harmony. Camille stopped and took a moment to truly look at Felicie. Much like her, she was also incredibly lean, with a heart shaped face. Her fair skin was clad with tiny freckles just above her nose that contrasted well with her long, red-orange, braided hair and bright green eyes. She was unlike most girls she'd met, with her long sleeved white shirt, black vest with gold embroidery, and short blue pants under dark purple, almost black leggings. In contrast, Camille's blonde hair was tied into two tight buns, which helped keep her hair out of her light blue eyes. Her bright hues matched her light green and pink leotard very well.

Felicie's smile practically brightened the room as she stopped and listened to the gentle teachings of Odette. Limping on her cane, she spoke with a soft tone that reflected years of experience. "Very good," the woman began. "Remember, that each combination is like a song; a sequential pattern that's supposed to move as a work of art all its own." The redhead nodded with a wide grin. Odette appeared kindly humored. "What's in most songs you hear, Felicie?" "What do you mean?" Felicie asked. "What are the sections of a common song?" "Oh! Well, most songs have a verse, a pre-chorus, the chorus, another verse, the chorus again, a bridge, and one or two more choruses, right?" the girl explained. "That's right!" Odette replied. "A song and a choreographed dance are just the same, in all but means. A song is presented by instruments and a dance by toes harder than rock."

Camille nodded in understanding as she hid behind a pillar in the orchestra section. She watched as the redhead closed her eyes and muttered "One, two, three, four..." as she heightened herself to her toes and delicately started with a promenade, before turning to a reverence, a Rond de Jambe, and a pirouette. Stepping gracefully across the stage, Camille was now able to admit that her soutenu amidst her pirouette was a grand little spectacle. Granted, Felicie was no Rosita Mauri, the Ballet Queen of the Opera House, but within a few years, she figured that she'd be an understandable contender for her replacement once Rosita had resolved to retire several years from now. Camille's eyes followed her ex-rival as she performed a sudden Soubresaut, followed by one of Felicie's favorite leaps: the Saut de Basque. The little blonde girl watched with a smile, that turned a little as she remembered why she was there. She wouldn't interrupt Felicie, but she would make her entrance...whether she wanted to or not. She warily stepped down the aisle as Felicie landed firmly on one foot and almost on its opposite knee. Camille noticed her body shifting to and fro very subtly at the impact her foot made to the hard surface. Then, her head looked up.

"Camille!"

Camille flinched as Odette and Felicie had both of their eyes with her. The silence that followed was hard for her to stomach, and the worst part of it all was that deep down, she knew why. "Hello, Felicie, Miss Odette..." Odette smiled at her with the smallest hint of doubt. "Why don't we stop here and rest? We can start up again tomorrow at 6." "In the evening?" Felicie asked with a grin. Odette arched her eyebrows mischievously, and merely said "Guess." Felicie's face jokingly fell, though only a little. "Alright, alright," she compromised. Odette cupped the girl's face and pecked her on the side of her head. "I'll go clean the foyer. Be back by 7PM. Then, we'll have dinner." "Alright, Odette," was all the girl replied. Odette kindly hummed in approval before she maneuvered her way down the ramps. Camille stepped forward to assist, but Felicie sprinted to her first. The blonde felt her spine tingle as the woman walked by. "Good evening, Miss Le Haut," she greeted in her usual, placid way.

Less than proud memories came to mind as Camille stared at her. Odette sensed the tension and softened her face a little more than before. "G-Good evening, Miss Odette. And it's Camille," the girl confirmed. Odette's serene face nodded. "That's right, force of habit, I suppose," she said, looking back at Felicie, who was switching out her ballet shoes with her usual brown boots. Odette civilly nodded at Camille, before she walked away.

With her gone, Camille made it to the stage and took in the redhead before her. "Felicie?" Camille asked. "How are you?"

Felicie seemed surprised to hear this, though it was a pleasant one. "I'm great, thanks. You?" "...alright, thank you," was all Camille would say. She was shocked at the reluctance in her own voice. How such a confident girl could be reduced to a quivering toddler, shaking like teeth chattering in the cold, perplexed her. "So...did you have a nice Christmas with Miss Odette?"

"Yep! Monsieur Merante took us on a boat ride on the Seine on Christmas Eve, and showed us his house, and invited us there for the holidays. Best Christmas Day ever! It was HUGE! I guess twirling more than 187 times in a row has its perks! Even if he did vomit, so I've heard...no disrespect or anything! He's a great teacher!" Felicie replied awkwardly. "No-no, I know what you mean...he most certainly is," Camille affirmed. After tying her shoelaces, Felicie tapped the toe of her boots to the floor, to ensure a comfortable tightness. She twirled around gleefully. "I can't wait for their wedding. They try to act like nothing's up, but just you wait, Camille; if they haven't kissed yet, they're bound to! Can you say 'Felicie La Bras-Merante? Sounds alright to me!"

Camille nodded with a chuckle. Just like Felicie, seeing the best case scenario, in every situation. She used to hate her for it...

"I'm happy for you..." she said meekly. The redhead noticed her less than enthusiastic demeanor, immediately stopped her jete's, and stared at her. Noticing her change in her mood, Camille shrugged and took a deep breath before they lowered. "Felicie...may I talk to you?"

Felicie stopped and nodded with the tiniest smile she could make. "Umm, sure-sure, of course!" She sat down on the stage and patted the space to her immediate left. Camille nodded gratefully and sat down beside her. She sighed as Felicie repositioned herself before relaxing. "So...what...can I do for you?" Camille looked her up and down, and for the first time in awhile, had no comeback.

"I...I owe you an apology. Many...apologies actually."  
"...OK."

Camille stared into Felicie's green eyes and heard a voice in her, screaming demands of that she'd retreat just then and there. "It's just-I've never been all that nice to you. Even when you and Odette worked in mine and Mother's mansion...I mean, remember when I accused you of stealing? Your _own_ music box?" Felicie nodded curtly. "I was awful, wasn't I? Laughing off your own passion when I had none? Throwing your Mother's music box out the window? _Your_ music box out the window?...what was I thinking?"

Her voice began to break. Felicie nibbled her lip. "B-But, Camille, I _was_ the one who stole your invitation to ballet school, remember? I wanted so badly to get in that-" "Don't be ridiculous, Felicie! My Mother had told me all my life that anyone that wasn't as well off as us, especially servants like you and Odette at the time, really were rats. But-but you're not a rat! You know that, don't you?"

"I do now..."

"See? I didn't have to call you some rat or noth-...you, Miss Odette, even Nora...ever since the night you performed The Nutcracker with Mademoiselle Mauri, I've learned so much from you all. Moreso than any training I did at home with Mother. I could've been nicer, you know? My Mother was just-...I-I...if I could go back, I would've...actually asked you questions. Have you had proper training? Who taught you? How long have you lived in Paris? We could've bonded right then and there...but I had to just... _disregard_ you as if you truly were noth-"

She trembled. Her eyes widened at the trembling in her muscles, her lack of grace in her voice and body posture. She involuntarily lowered her head and hid her face in her hands. Felicie frowned. They could both hear the demeaning tone in her voice as Camille looked down on her with scorn too many times. _"You can work as hard as you like. You can train 24 hours a day, but you will always be nothing...nothing..."_

Felicie had never known true doubt before Camille Le Haut.

She wrapped her arms around Camille and both girls shed their own tears. Trickling waterfalls dripped onto Odette's good clean floors and stained Camille's skirts. Soft echoes of moaning and weeping reflected off the walls of the auditorium, creating a gloom that mismatched the elegance that was the Palais Garnier. None of them dared to look at each other as they held onto each other for dear life, yet, in the stillness of the stage, Camille felt something unusual in her. The warmth in her stomach made her stop her whining and leaned back from Felicie. They both stared on, reluctant to look away. Even when Camille wiped her tears with her arm, her eye contact wouldn't dare break. Felicie was the same.

"...Your eyes are as red as your hair."

Felicie threw her head back and laughed. "Hey at least you're crying for real this time!" Camille guffawed louder than any Felicie had ever heard. "I never said I was a good actress, Felicie!" "Aah, come here!" Felicie proposed. Both girls embraced each other and the cries of hurt feelings turned into hard laughter.

Both fell onto their backs and held onto their strained stomachs. Their red, puffy faces were tear stained and hurting a little, but it was no longer a negative pain. "Hey, Camille!" Felicie piped up. "Yes?" "You may need help with your acting, but you make a great dancer!" Camille giggled. "Well, now that you've mentioned it..."

Felicie lightly nudged her in the shoulder, while Camille rolled her eyes. The quiet came back, and it worried the blonde for a moment. "I'm sorry I've always been such a pain," Camille concluded. Felicie sighed. "And I'm sorry for stealing your name for a while. I thought I knew what I was doing...if I were you, I'd hate me too." "I don't hate you," Camille insisted. "I could've been nicer..." "And I could've been more honest, maybe we really _could_ have bonded, after I learned a few steps from Odette."

"Maybe...I don't really know how to bond with people myself, not even with my Mother."  
"Hmm...how's she doing by the way?"  
"Better; She should be out of the hospital within a few days. We've been talking, and I think we've made some progress. I'm sorry she...sort of chased you all the way up that statue Victor was helping with."  
"...not your fault. Hey," the redhead continued. "You know what I like to do to make myself feel better?" Camille smirked and curved an eyebrow. "Dance, of course," Camille answered, making Felicie chuckle. "Well, yeah, but specific moves! Here, let me show you!"

Beginning with a promenade, Felicie giddily releve'd into a graceful saute', causing Camille to somehow find the strength to join her. Sad little butterflies fluttered within her, telling her to stand down and cry because of recent memories. Felicie however, didn't appear reluctant to let her join, so Camille performed her own promenade, and plie'd into a soubresant, paired with a port de bras. Despite the occasional spotting of their heads, they kept their now jubilant gaze on each other. Any feeling of shame and doubt faded little by little, the longer their limbs stayed in motion. Camille's unsure face turned into a smile as wide as hers as they leaped from the stage, into the tops of the orchestra seating's chairs.

"Hey, this looks familiar!" Felicie noticed teasingly.  
"Ha! I suppose so. No pushing this time, I promise!"  
"And no tugging of the hair?"  
"None!"

They howled with laughter as they danced pase's from row to row, chair to chair until they made it all the way to the back of the room. Felicie and Camille winked at each other. "First one back wins!" the redhead challenged. "Sounds fair enough," the blonde confirmed. Pas to pas, jette' to jette', the girls soon felt no difference between their audience of seats and the clouds that loomed above the opera house. Once the orchestra pit came in sight, though it was empty, that didn't stop Felicie from grasping Camille's hand, nodding her head forward, and once they reached the front row, planted their working legs and leaped into a Grand Jete', with intertwining arms.

With their legs spread out as if in splits, both Felicie and Camille flew through the air like birds. They had both closed their eyes tightly for a few seconds as they both entered a moment of bliss. As typical of Felicie, she bent her knees a little to help form a twirl both for herself and Camille, giving their leaps a flair of a Saut de Basque. They both landed with their working foot planted firmly on the floor and their supporting knees just above the floor. They smiled at each other as they deeply inhaled and exhaled. Sweat dropped from their faces, but they didn't really care. They stood back up again and giggled lightheartedly.

Then the silence returned.

For a moment, Camille began to worry again, but she shook her head in mental defiance. Unlike the last time she witnessed Felicie's Grand Jete', she initiated their make up hug this time. "Hey, Camille, guess what?" Felicie asked. "What?" Camille replied. "We're bonding!" Camille laughed. "Well, good!" Both chuckled with each other for awhile. "Hey, Camille," Felicie spoke. "I'd should probably go. Odette will be expecting me in a little while. Want to join us for dinner?" she asked.

The blonde girl wiped her arm on her moist forehead. "Can I wash up first?" "Of course!" "Thanks..." Felicie nodded, picked up her belongings and waved 'goodbye'. Camille had just noticed the weight on her shoulders had actually disappeared.

"...friend."


End file.
